Who know this be the life that i really live
Sick of eatin rice, every friday was rinds
Running and dicing fried rice and no accent on rice please,
We skip college, chase dollars and black pennies
In this cracked crack fag back slab in disguise
Back down, before i cook you like rice.
And suddenly you don't seem nearly as tempting for pudding
Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring
It's hard to have american pride when most of your money's made out of them lies
In this whole world we're infatuated with rice, in fact we hated our eyes
Money ain't a thing
Ses starter main pudding,
But the love from the boppers had 'him watchin they rise
Id rather be a man, satisfied by a grain of rice
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